


Slightly Shaken, Maybe (But Don't Mention It)

by sal_si_puedes



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Concussed Harvey, Concussions, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 23:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3506921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/pseuds/sal_si_puedes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey has a concussion. The hospital won't discharge him unless he has someone to watch over him. So, naturally, he calls Mike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slightly Shaken, Maybe (But Don't Mention It)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [naias](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=naias), [JaneDuJour](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDuJour/gifts).



> JaneDuJour said she wanted to read concussed!Harvey with Mike taking care of him. naias agreed. So what else could I do but write it???
> 
> Based on [this prompt](http://janedujour.tumblr.com/post/112637558701/heres-a-suits-fic-i-want-to-read) by janedujour. It isn't the weekend this goes down but I hope that J. and naias like it anyway. :D
> 
> I'm [sal-si-puedes](http://sal-si-puedes.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Come and say "Hi!"! :D

It’s almost 10 a.m. when Mike’s phone buzzes somewhere on his cluttered desk and he has to search for it under the piles of file folders and papers for some moments before he finds it and sees that it’s Harvey who is calling him.

Mike frowns. Harvey hadn’t been in his office when Mike had come to see him earlier that day, around 8:45, with that detailed report Harvey had requested yesterday and he isn’t calling Mike from his office now. Mike leans back in his chair and touches the “accept call” button hesitantly.

“Yo, what’s up?” 

“Mike,” Harvey says and Mike can hear street noise seeping through the phone. “I need you to pick up the trial files from my desk and head downstairs.” Mike wonders why Harvey is speaking so slowly but maybe that’s because he is trying to drown out the traffic’s noise and the sound of wailing ambulances in the background. “Ray will be downstairs in ten and then you come get me. Corner of Gold and Fulton. We’ll be working at my place today. It’s quieter. Pick up some coffee on your way here.”

Before Mike has the chance to say something, Harvey has disconnected the call. With a slight frown still lingering on his brow, Mike walks into Harvey’s office and grabs the file folders that are lying on Harvey’s desk. There’s another folder on the meeting table and when Mike picks it up to take a closer look he sees that it belongs to the case they’re working on as well. Shrugging, he stacks it with the other ones already in his hands and leaves.

*****

Ray drives him through the streets of the city and Mike holds the tray with the two coffee cups he has picked up from the cart in front of the office building in his lap. “Hey Ray,” he calls out and Ray turns his head briefly. “You know where Harvey has been?”

“No, Mike,” Ray answers. “He told me yesterday that he wanted to go to the gym first thing this morning but I guess he’s changed his plans.” 

“Yeah,” Mike murmurs and wrinkles his nose. There’s a long day ahead of them. They’re taking the case to trial tomorrow morning and he’s certain that the preparations will last well into the night.

*****

Harvey is sitting on one of the public chairs at the street corner, scarf slung around his neck and his shoulders sagging. When Ray honks, he raises his head slowly and blinks a couple of times before he gets up. Mike watches him walk around the newspaper dispensers to the curb and wonders why Harvey’s hair is slightly disheveled and why he looks so tired. He can barely keep himself on his feet, it seems, steps dragging, and he nearly trips when he steps into the street, steadying himself with his hand against the roof of the car the very last moment. 

As soon as Harvey is in the car Mike becomes aware of the sallow complexion of his face and of the dark circles under his eyes. His lips are dry and cracked and he licks them quickly before he fastens his seat belt.

“Did you get _wasted_ last night?”, Mike asks incredulously. It’s not like Harvey _at all_ to drink heavily enough to be that hung over, especially not with a trial right ahead of them. Mike leans a little to the side, towards Harvey, trying to smell Harvey’s breath, but Harvey sinks back into his seat and turns his face away.

“None of your business,” Harvey groans and shakes his head when Mike nudges his arm with his hand, trying to pass him one of the coffee cups. “But no.”

Mike watches him closing his eyes and swallowing drily a couple of times as soon as the car starts rolling. “What have you been up to this morning, then?” He asks and watches Harvey closely as his jaws clench when Ray turns a corner. “Didn’t see you at the office earlier so—“

“Aren’t we curious today?” Harvey groans under his breath and rubs his palms against his coat. “Client meeting.”

“Which client? I could have—“

“Mike,” Harvey cuts him short and opens his eyes for a moment. They look bloodshot. “Shut the fuck up. I’ve got a headache.”

“Okay,” Mike murmurs and leans back in his seat, biting his tongue. “Okay.”

*****

Harvey takes a deep breath before he gets out of the car and Mike watches him hold on to the door for some moments, steadying himself again. Frowning, Mike gets out of the car himself and follows Harvey’s slow, carefully measured steps across the pavement and through the lobby of his building up to the elevators. Harvey’s breathing is labored while they wait for the elevator to arrive and for the doors to open but otherwise he seems okay.

Harvey has to try twice to punch in the code to his condo’s alarm, though, and when his coat slips from its hanger after he’s taken it off, he leaves it for Mike to pick up.

Mike follows him into the living room and finds him leaning against the kitchen isle, his hands resting on the counter, breathing slowly. 

“Harvey,” he carefully approaches the other man and moves to place his hand between Harvey’s shoulder blades but he withdraws immediately before he even touches the other man when he feels Harvey tense. “What—“

“Excuse me for a second,” Harvey mutters and quickly walks over to his bedroom doors without looking back at Mike. “Get to work.” He gestures vaguely in the general direction of the coffee table and Mike watches him pull the sliding doors close behind him. He hears the bathroom door fall shut a moment later and tosses the file folders onto the low table, biting his lips. 

*****

Harvey comes back from his third visit to the bathroom in barely two hours, sweaty and with shaking hands. Mike watches him sort through the files for almost a minute before he throws the folders back onto the table. “For fuck’s sake,” he groans and rubs his palms against his upper thighs. “Goddamn Walton!”

“Harvey,” Mike says softly and tries to catch Harvey’s gaze. “Maybe we should take a break. Maybe you—You seem exhausted and—“

“Nonsense,” Harvey’s voice sounds hoarse when he interrupts Mike and it sounds as if his mouth is very dry. “Just run me through it again, okay?”

“I’ve done that twice already,” Mike says and rises to pour a glass of water for himself and, of course, one for Harvey. He hands Harvey his glass and sets the other one down onto the coffee table. “I’m not sure if—“

Harvey chokes around the greedy gulps of water he’s taking and Mike falls silent. “For Christ’s sake, Mike,” Harvey spits when his coughing subsides a little. “I don’t give a fuck if you have to tell me fifty times! We need— _You_ need to get your shit together and—Shit—“ Harvey’s voice hitches and he sucks in a quick gulp of air, squeezing his eyes shut tightly for a second, before he gets up and makes for the bathroom again, leaving behind a very confused Mike, staring after him.

*****

When Mike slides the doors open carefully after almost a quarter of an hour has passed without Harvey coming back, he finds the other man sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. Harvey is drawing in deep shaky breaths and his jacket and vest are lying next to him on the duvet. His hair looks messy, even messier than before, and Mike doesn’t know what to do. He takes a few tentative steps towards the bed but then he stops again, clearing his throat.

“Harvey, look, apparently you’re not feeling so good right now and maybe it’s a good idea to just sleep it off. I mean, you should be fine in a couple of hours and I can come back then and—“

“I’m not hung over, Mike,” Harvey murmurs and digs the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “I have a concussion.”

“What?” Mike is totally taken aback and he stares at Harvey incredulously. “I mean— _What?_ ”

“Are you hearing impaired?” Harvey snaps and looks up with his heavy-lidded, bloodshot eyes. “I said. I have a concussion.”

“Shit,” Mike hisses and hurries over to the windows to close the curtains. He switches off the main light and picks up Harvey’s jacket and vest from the bed, carefully placing the garments onto the chaise longue. “What happened?”

“Boxing training,” Harvey mutters and winces when he shakes his head. “Attention slipped for just a second and—Bamm—Don’t even remember it properly.”

“You came from hospital when we picked you up earlier,” Mike concludes and Harvey nods.

“Presbyterian. They wouldn’t discharge me without someone—They said someone needed to be there, so—“

“Oh,” Mike says and Harvey buries his face in his hands again. “I see.”

“I hate throwing up,” Harvey groans and runs his fingers through his hair. “I feel dizzy.”

Mike worries his lower lip between his teeth. His hand is itching to touch Harvey’s shoulder, to smooth his hair back from his sweaty forehead, to do at least _something_. _Anything_ , really, but he has no idea what.

“What do you need me to do?” He asks quietly.

“When I pass out again, I need you to call an ambulance,” Harvey whispers and sighs heavily. “Otherwise, I should be fine. They don’t think that there is a bleed, so—“

“You _passed out_?” Mike’s voice rises and he adds a quick “Sorry, sorry,” when Harvey winces again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Three guesses,” Harvey groans and lowers himself backwards slowly until he’s lying down, his feet still on the ground.

“Because you’re an idiot?” Mike grins faintly and crouches down in front of Harvey, reaching for his left foot.

“Fuck off,” Harvey moans and tries to withdraw his foot from Mike’s hold. “We need to get back to work, the trial—“

“Only place _you_ ’re going,” Mike unties the laces of Harvey’s left shoe and carefully slips it off of Harvey’s foot. “Is _bed_.” He surreptitiously lets his fingers brush over Harvey’s instep, the fine wool of Harvey’s sock soft against his fingertips. Harvey’s feet are cold and Mike bites his lips again. He needs to get Harvey under the covers as soon as possible. 

Just as he finishes that thought, a shiver runs through Harvey’s body and, mere moments after, another one. “Fuck,” Harvey hisses and from the corner of his eyes Mike can see how he wraps his arms around himself. He quickly takes off Harvey’s other shoe and helps the other man slip under the covers. “You should get out of these clothes,” he murmurs and undoes Harvey’s already loosened tie. He slips it off and opens the top two buttons of Harvey’s shirt.

Harvey shivers under the covers and Mike pulls them up even higher, tugging them tightly around Harvey’s body. “Later,” Harvey mutters and releases a long, shaky breath. 

“Are you going to be sick again?” Mike asks and finally gives in to the urge to run his hand over Harvey’s forehead, smoothing his soft, sweaty hair back.

“Only if you do that again,” Harvey groans, eyes closed, and Mike smiles.

“Idiot,” he grins and repeats his movement. “But really.”

“God, I hope not,” Harvey whispers and swallows thickly. “I _hate_ it.”

“Okay,” Mike says and smiles when Harvey leans into his touch for a split second before shrugging him off. “I’ll get you your water and I’ll work in here for a while just in case you need anyth—“

“Don’t need a baby-sitter,” Harvey mumbles, his words slurred with fatigue. 

“Yeah, right,” Mike whispers under his breath as he walks into the living room to fetch Harvey’s glass as well as his laptop and some files. 

“One hour,” Harvey drawls when Mike is just about to settle on the chaise longue. “I’ll sleep for one hour and then—“

Mike starts out working on the chaise longue but when Harvey wakes up from a fitful nap a little over three hours later Mike is leaning against the headboard of the bed, his legs stretched out in front of him and papers strewn all over the duvet. Mike stops typing and looks up from the screen when Harvey stirs and tries to sit up.

Harvey falls back into the pillows with a long, low moan. 

“Still nauseous?” Mike asks and sets the laptop aside. 

Harvey takes a few long, slow breaths, eyes shut and hands fisting into the sheets, before he nods. “Yeah.” He inhales again and lets go of the sheets. “What are you doing in bed?”

“Well,” Mike answers and stacks the files into a rough pile. “Technically, I’m not _in_ bed, I'm just _on_ the bed. And it’s because you called me. I mean, you said my name and I thought—“

“Did no such thing.” Harvey sounds truly offended and a small grin spreads over Mike’s face. 

“Did, too.” He’s not going to tell Harvey that he actually turned his head and kissed Mike’s palm when Mike had settled next to him on the bed and cupped Harvey’s cheek for the briefest of moments, assuming that the other man had fallen asleep again. He’s not going to mention the softly whispered “Thank you” either, just a flutter of Harvey’s lips against his palm. Not worth mentioning at all. 

“Here,” Mike murmurs and gently shoves a hand under Harvey’s back. “Let me help you sit up.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” Harvey groans and settles against the pillow Mike has stuffed between his back and the headboard. 

“Never,” Mike says softly and rests his hand on Harvey’s shoulder lightly. “Harvey, don’t worry. This is between you and I. Nobody will ever know.”

Harvey takes a deep breath and turns to look at Mike for a moment. “Thank you,” he nods briefly and turns away again. “I need to take a piss,” he says after some seconds. “And I need a shower. Get out of these clothes.”

Mike helps Harvey rise and guides him to the bathroom with just the softest of touches to the small of Harvey’s back. He lingers in the bathroom, watching how Harvey slowly undresses himself and lets his clothes just drop to the floor right where he is standing, fighting the urge to help. 

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” Harvey asks, looking at Mike over his shoulder before he walks over to the toilet.

“Nope,” Mike grins and shakes his head. “Just in case. But I am going to be a gentleman and I’m not going to look,” he adds when Harvey mutters a soft curse under his breath and turns around, giving Harvey at least a little bit of privacy. “Sorry,” he whispers, closing his eyes.

“You know,” Harvey says and flushes the toilet once he is done taking a leak. “This is not how I imagined this at all.”

 _Be a gentleman,_ Mike thinks, _be a gentleman_. He knows that Harvey didn’t mean to say that, that he didn’t mean to say anything, so he just keeps quiet and listens to Harvey’s footsteps as he walks across the bathroom’s floor to the shower. Once the water has been turned on and running for a little while he closes the toilet’s lid and sits down, biting his lips.

“Gentleman, my ass,” Harvey’s voice only barely carries over the sound of the running water and Mike blushes. He didn’t mean to look, he honestly didn’t but—

“Sorry,” he says again and looks away. 

When Harvey has dried himself off Mike follows him to the bedroom again, trying his best not to stare at Harvey’s naked body. He watches Harvey disappear into his clost and listens to the sounds of Harvey rummaging around in it until the other man re-emerges, clad in a pair of sweat pants and a worn-down Henley shirt. 

“Read me what you’ve got so far,” Harvey says as he sits down onto the edge of the bed. He slips back under the covers and looks at Mike who is still lingering at the foot of the bed.

“You want something to eat?”

Harvey shakes his head and Mike frowns. “You’re not hungry?”

“Starving, actually,” Harvey admits and sighs. “But I really don’t want to puke again.”

“Hmmm.” Mike nods and tilts his head. “How about some light chicken soup then?”

“You,” Harvey props himself up on his elbows and frowns, “can make chicken soup?”

“Yeah,” Mike grins at the doubtful look Harvey casts him. “I can. Or rather: I _could_. But there’s nothing in your kitchen except for booze and mustard. I checked while you were asleep.” Harvey glares at him and Mike’s grin fades a little. “But I can call Mister Wu’s and order some in. Sound good?”

“Whatever,” Harvey sighs and sinks back into the pillows. 

“Okay.” Mike picks up his phone from the night stand and retreats to the living room to order some food.

Harvey has dozed off again when he returns to the bedroom and Mike works next to him until the food arrives. When he tries to feed Harvey the soup, Harvey snatches the bowl and the spoon from Mike’s grip, spilling some of the hot liquid onto the covers, but Mike lets him and Harvey finishes almost half of the bowl. He even accepts the offered Tylenol and lets Mike help him settle back into the horizontal position afterwards. “Thirty minutes, okay,” he mumbles before he drifts off again.

This time, Mike does wake him in time. Because he thinks Harvey wouldn’t let him get away with letting him sleep again and because there’s something he wants to do.

“Let me check your eyes for a moment,” he coaxes and tries to catch Harvey’s gaze. 

“Have you been google-ing?” Harvey sounds annoyed but allows Mike to cup his face and locks eyes with him.

“Yeah,” Mike murmurs and nods contentedly. Both pupils the same size. No worries. Thank god. “Listen,” he says after a while. “Why don’t you go back to sleep for a little while? I’ll sort through the accounts again and—“

“Mike,” Harvey interrupts and breaks eye contact. “We need to work this out before we go to court tomorrow and I should—“

“No court for you tomorrow, buddy,” Mike says firmly and brushes Harvey’s hair back from his face. “I court. You bed.” He leans forward and places a gentle kiss on Harvey’s forehead.

“If you do that again,” Harvey murmurs and closes his eyes. “I’ll kill you.”

“Okay,” Mike says and risks his life by doing it again. Being alive, in his very professional opinion, is overrated anyway.

“Mike,” Harvey warns and Mike withdraws. “I’ll go to court tomorrow. You’re lucky if I let you tag along.”

“Yeah, ‘course you will,” Mike smiles as Harvey’s eyes flutter shut. “’Course you will.”

He works silently next to Harvey for the next couple of hours and around midnight he’s pretty sure that he’s done everything that can be done. He is prepared. So he steals Harvey’s cell phone, calls _Maria_ , Harvey’s cleaning lady, and asks if she could spare a couple of hours the next day to be in the condo, just in case, while he is in court. 

When everything is taken care of, he takes off his shirt, his trousers and his socks and slips under the covers next to Harvey.

Harvey is sound asleep and Mike watches him breathe evenly for a while before he switches off the bedside lamp on his side and closes his eyes as well.

“Any time, Harvey,” he whispers into the darkness and turns to his side, resting his head on his hands. “Any time.”

 

~fin ~


End file.
